


Working for a Dark Lord

by Duender



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Crack and Angst, F/M, Fake seer, Gen, Harrymort - Freeform, M/M, Marauders Era (Harry Potter), Prompt by Dory, Seer Harry Potter, Time Travel
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-03
Updated: 2020-08-14
Packaged: 2021-03-04 20:14:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,278
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25052236
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Duender/pseuds/Duender
Summary: Four decades in the past with nothing but the clothes on his back and the wand in his pocket, Harry Potter has another battle to fight, another war to win.He has always been the hero, after all.If only everyone would stop trying to ask him for visions, now!
Relationships: Albus Dumbledore & Harry Potter, Harry Potter/Tom Riddle | Voldemort
Comments: 20
Kudos: 171





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Miraculous](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Miraculous/gifts).



The Department of Mysteries should seriously consider locking their doors. Their security had been atrocious when he was sixteen, and at the age of thirty-four, he found that it was even worse. There was absolutely nobody to stop Harry from entering through the big imposing doors, though he doubted anyone would stop the ‘Saviour of the Wizarding World’. 

“Okay, Hermione is going to be wherever the books are,” Harry muttered to himself. The DoM also needed a map, though he supposed the twisting hallways and infinite doors were good enough to keep out intruders. 

Harry, after a couple of turns, opened a door. It was an empty closet. “Just like my bottle of Felix Felicis. How on earth am I supposed to find Mione before dinner time?!”

Sighing, Harry continued on his search. A few minutes later, he bumped into a hooded Unspeakable.

“Excuse me, I’m looking for Unspeakable Granger,” Harry said, confident he wouldn’t be kicked out. The figure looked at him consideringly. There was absolutely no giveaway to the person’s identity, and he found himself staring into the blackness under their hood. 

The Unspeakable gestured for him to follow, turning on their heels and walking down another hallway. Harry followed at a sedated pace, not worried anymore about making it out of here in time for dinner.

The Unspeakable opened a door at the far end of a hallway (not like Harry would know which one, they all looked the same) and gestured him in. Not really paying attention, he walked in and stopped short when he saw where they were. It was the room with the Veil of Death.

He was about to turn around to question the Unspeakable, when he felt a wand jab him in the small of his back.

“Perfect little Potter. Saved the world and now has everyone at his beck and call.”

“....Malfoy?!”

The voice belonged to someone he would recognize anywhere, anyday. Draco Malfoy had been pardoned and allowed to finish his education after the war, while his mother had been put under house arrest. His father, as Voldemort’s right hand man, had had nowhere except an Azkaban cell, but Harry had testified for him and gotten him into a lower security level.

“Surprised, Potter?”

He  _ was.  _ Hadn’t the youngest Malfoy left for France, hoping to have a new start?!

“I am. Also, the wand is really uncomfortable.”

The tip dug in harder. 

“Oh so great saviour of the world, thinking you were doing me a favour, weren’t you? Always wanting to play hero. Put my mother under house arrest, my father in prison, and shame upon my family name. Happy?! That you finally got one up on your rival?!” Draco Malfoy was incensed. And Harry honestly had no idea why.

“I tried to do everything I could to help you! They were going to give your father the Kiss!”

“And that would have been better! I wouldn’t have to suffer everyday, wondering if he’s okay. Orphans. You have no idea what it is to lose a parent after knowing what it is to have one, do you?!”

Harry was slowly beginning to see red. They weren’t children anymore. “What in Merlin’s name are you talking about?”

“Having the world at your fingertips, then losing it all because of one pathetic wizard who can’t even die properly. You have no idea what it is like, to have everything you’ve known your entire life ripped away from you!”

“I lost friends and family too, Draco,” Harry pacified the blond, even though he couldn’t see his face.

“And now you’ll lose them forever.”

“Wha-”

“Stupefy.”

Harry felt his vision go black, and he heard a final whisper, before he knew no more.

“Long live the Dark Lord.”

  
  
  



	2. Chapter 1

“-And you just landed in front of the Ministry’s entrance?” Dumbledore confirmed again.

“Yes, Professor,” Harry groaned. “Then I spotted you walking out of the Ministry, and now we’re here.”

“Ah, yes! I bought a packet of Lemon Drops!” Dumbledore said delightedly.

Harry had gathered as much, when he had spotted a packet of yellow things in the Headmaster’s hand. He took the time to look around his surroundings, where Dumbledore had brought him after he had drunkenly reached for the man, as the other bowed his head in thought.

_ It couldn’t be - but it was. Surrounded by muggles mulling about him, standing next to a telephone post, was a person he hadn’t seen in a long time, but recognized at once. The violently purple clothing stood out like an eyesore, but he must have been wearing a Muggle-repelling charm, because no one batted an eye his way. _

_ Harry pushed his way through the crowd of people between him and the man, elbowing people and not bothering to apologize, until he was suddenly mere feet from him. _

_ “Professor Dumbledore?” Harry reached for a sleeve of the man’s robes almost desperately, the silver stars winking at him as he snagged the end. _

_ Dumbledore took a step back at his sudden lunge, and raised an eyebrow slowly. “Greetings, young man. Who might you be?” _

_ “Me, it’s me -” Harry froze.  _

_ Professor Dumbledore. Alive. _

‘Awful things happen to wizards who mess with time, Harry.’

_ Harry felt the cool cloth slip through his fingers but he did not move. He stood there, in the middle of a busy pavement, staring at the man in front of him with dawning horror. A man who, by all means, should be  _ dead. _ He felt cold and warm at the same time, he did not know if he should weep with joy or collapse with fear. His body was stiff, but he felt shakier than ever.  _

_ “No, no, no,” Harry tried to step away, but this time it was Dumbledore who reached for him, snagging his wrist with a frail-looking yet strong hand. _

_ “Are you alright, my boy?”  _

_ ‘My boy.’ That’s what he had always called him. _

_ Harry couldn’t take it. He felt his vision go black, and the last thing he heard was a levitation charm being cast. _

They were in the Hogwarts infirmary, where the wizened wizard had brought him as soon as he had spotted Harry’s bleeding lightning scar.

The white, spotless room was just as Harry remembered, and void of people except him and his companion. Seeing his old,  _ dead,  _ Headmaster had been a real shock, but Harry had just walked through the Veil of Death and come out alive; he was glad to see a person he knew when he had suddenly found himself on a sidewalk in bustling London.

After he had been checked up by Madam Pomfrey - and wasn’t it a delight to see someone else familiar and  _ alive  _ once again - he had been left to his own thoughts in the whitewashed room.

_ ‘What sorts of situations do you manage to get into, Harry?’ The voice in his head sounded remarkably like Hermione. He had no doubt the bushy-haired woman would say the exact same thing, if she were there. _

_ He breathed in, out. The Hospital wing smelled like it always had; crisp linen and potions. He rubbed his hand against the white sheet beneath him - it was coarse and smooth all at once. It was  _ real.  _ He was  _ real.  _ And somehow, he was in the past. He wasn’t sure what the date was, but it was obvious that he was no longer in 2014. _

_ He was here, and he was alone. He had nothing save for the clothes on his back and his wand in his pocket.  _

_ He leaned backwards, sinking into the stiff pillow. His head felt a little too light. He didn’t want to open his eyes, as if he didn’t want to acknowledge that he wasn’t dreaming. Harry had gone through some horrible things, but this was too much of a nightmare to be true. Right? _

_ His screwed-shut eyes felt hot.  _

  
  


He had wanted to tell the Headmaster everything he could - he trusted the man, even after his manipulations and hidden schemes, he had wanted the best for the world. But Dumbledore had raised one hand and refused to hear anything but the absolute necessities. 

“Time travel of this magnitude is unheard of,” Dumbledore said, stroking his beard thoughtfully. “And to walk through the Veil of Death - but then again, no one knew what lay on the other side. A time portal, though?”

Harry sighed and leaned back into his pillows. “I’ve never been normal, Professor,” he said with a tired grin, and in that moment, Dumbledore could finally see the humongous weight the young man was burdened with.

“I shall let you rest, Mr. Potter, and then we can figure out some arrangements for you. I fear, however, that you returning to your own time is going to be a colossal task, and might take quite some time,” he said gravely, rising from his seat. 

Harry simply nodded, letting his eyes fall shut. When had things ever gone his way?

  
  


___________________________

  
  


“1974?!” Harry choked on the piece of toast he had been trying to eat.

Dumbledore raised an eyebrow. “What did you think?”

“I thought I had managed to travel just a few years, not four decades!”

“Ah, so you’re from 2014? How old are you, my boy? ” 

Harry gulped down his glass of water. “How old do you think I am?”

He was closely inspected, like an insect under a microscope. “You do not look any older than twenty five, I must say. Though wizards age differently - the more power you hold, the slower you age.”

Harry blinked. He hadn’t known that. “I was going to turn thirty four, actually.”

Dumbledore hummed. He had already asked Harry to call him by his first name, but Harry had always known him as his Headmaster, it was weird to call him Albus.

“So, what do I do? Is there any way for me to return?”

“I don’t know yet,” the Headmaster said wearily. “But we must be very careful. The future is your past. Any changes in this timeline, and you may never be able to return.”

Harry stared at Dumbledore blankly for a few seconds, and then it hit him.

_ He might never be able to return. _

He’d known that, but he hadn’t really absorbed what that fully meant; he hadn’t realised that he didn’t have Hermione to turn to when he didn’t know something, he didn’t have Ron to lean on anymore. He was truly alone. 

Harry felt as if his chest had suddenly caved in, he was vaguely aware that his breaths were becoming shallower. He felt his eyes burning, he squeezed them shut tightly and hung his head. He’d finally been happy, he’d finally found peace -

“Harry.” He looked up to meet serious blue eyes. “I will try everything in my power to get you home.”

He nodded.

“Meanwhile, I will give you a tour of the castle, though you already know her well. It’s currently summer, there are only a few Professors at Hogwarts presently.”

Harry nodded again. If he was left alone to his thoughts, he would end up conjuring every worst case scenario he could. He got out of bed - fortunately, his clothes had been salvaged and he was dressed in jeans, a shirt, and a robe - and trailed after the Headmaster.

_ For an old man,  _ he thought as he hurried out of the infirmary,  _ he sure walks fast. _

  
  


___________________________

  
  


“I hope you do not mind staying at Hog’s Head? It’s a pub, but could you manage until we have better arrangements?” Dumbledore peered over his half moon spectacles. “We need to ensure that the minimum number of people see you. Thus far, it has just been myself and Madam Pomfrey.”

“And we’re now extending that to your brother?” Harry asked drily as they headed towards a part of the castle that housed the teachers’ quarters.

Dumbledore turned to him. “We are close in the future, aren’t we?” he asked shrewdly.

Harry nodded. “I- you were my mentor,” he said, looking at his feet. Tears pricked his eyes. It had been years, but he still remembered that night very clearly, when the Headmaster’s face had been shrouded in green light and he had been blasted off the Astronomy Tower.

“And you witnessed my death,” Dumbledore said simply. “Which you still blame yourself for.”

Harry grimaced. He couldn’t refute the statement, it was completely true. The man had always been extremely shrewd and somehow all-knowing.

“I assure you, my death will be on my own terms, Harry,” the wizened wizard said. Harry could only nod as he was shown to a guest quarters.

“Ask for your meals whenever you wish, I will come for you in the morning,” Dumbledore informed him before leaving.

Harry simply collapsed on the four poster bed and let darkness greet him.

  
  


___________________________

  
  


“So why exactly can I not stay in the guest room?” Harry asked as he followed the Headmaster down a path he knew very well; they were on their way to Hogsmeade. “I could do exactly what I did today.”

What Harry had done that day included calling for breakfast after a warm shower, before sneaking off to the library to find books on time travel. He hadn’t gotten his hands on a single tome before Dumbledore had come for him.

The disappointment that had been visible in his eyes irked him as much as it had back when he was a teenager.

“The other Professors present. We can not risk people seeing you, we don’t know how it might affect the timeline,” Dumbledore explained patiently. “In Hogsmeade, you would be able to use glamors to disguise your exact identity. Inside the school, Professors can look through them.”

Harry raised an eyebrow. That was a fact he hadn’t been aware of.

“I’ll need a backstory too, then.”

“Indeed. Would you be opposed to using your mother’s maiden name?”

Harry was about to nod when he realized something. Doing a quick count, he shook his head. 

“My mother’s a witch, currently in Hogwarts.”

Dumbledore frowned. “Very well. How about you come up with a name, then? Any will do, really.”

Harry could not believe he was about to - “Harry Dursley.”

“Harry Dursley it is. A slight glamour to tweak your features would be wonderful, actually.”

“I thought we were going to tell your brother the truth,” Harry commented, glancing at the old man.

Dumbledore’s face fell. “My brother and I do not have the, ah, best relationship, unfortunately.”

Harry raised an eyebrow, but nodded, fishing out his wand and running it from the top of his forehead down his nose to his chin, hiding his scar, making his eyes a duller green and changing his facial features a bit. Anymore and he would have to use a lot of power to hold up the glamour, and he didn’t want to expend his magic anytime soon.

Harry let his gaze wander as they neared Hogsmeade - the wizarding village was exactly how he knew it, like a little fairytale place stuck in time. The few shops were unfamiliar to him, but they still sold the exact same things. He assumed the owners had changed the stores’ names with changing times, to appeal to newer customers.

Harry glanced down the street as they approached Hog’s Head - the store straight ahead, where Madam Puddifoot’s should have been. The tea shop present wasn’t pink; it was a cosy looking place with wooden furnishings that looked much better than the frills that decorated the place he knew, but Harry felt a stab of sadness; the place where he’d gone on a date with Cho and Ginny held a lot of memories, not all of them were happy but they still reminded him of what he had lost.

The door to Hog’s Head opened with a jingle, and Harry found himself standing in a familiar dingy room. The man behind the bar didn’t change much over the years, he mused, as he met the blue eyes of Aberforth Dumbledore.

“Albus,” he said gruffly, as he continued wiping the glass in his hand. 

“Aberforth,” Albus was much more jovial. “This here is my young friend Harry Dursley. Will you be so kind to host him for a few days?”

Harry fidget under Aberforth’s unnerving stare, and chose to let his gaze wander around the sparsely populated pub. There were a handful of people, sitting scattered amongst the rickety tables and chairs, most of them wearing hoods to obscure their identity. The few whose faces he could see, Harry immediately turned away from.

_ Snape’s hair would look like luscious silky locks compared to his,  _ he thought to himself as he looked at a trollish man from the corner of his eye.

“Very well, boy.” Harry jumped as Aberforth put down the glass he was cleaning with a loud thud. “Come.”

Throwing back a glance at the Headmaster, who only smiled genially and said he would see him the next day, Harry followed the older Dumbledore upstairs and into a dusty room that had seen better days, a few centuries ago.

“Come down for meals at eight, two and seven,” Aberforth said gruffly, and then he was gone.

The room he was left in was small, with a bed, an armchair and a small table next to the fireplace. Harry withdrew his wand and cast every cleaning spell Mrs. Weasley had taught him, not that it helped much. The blankets were still a dull, dusty grey, and he could still not see through the small window on the other side of the room - the glass was completely opaque.

  
  


___________________________

  
  


The next few days passed as a blur. Albus (he now talked to two Dumbledore’s, calling the Headmaster by his first name was the only way to not confuse himself) came by everyday after breakfast, always having a new stack of books that covered topics ranged from time turners and time paradoxes to alternate dimensions and “Life after Death: Does afterlife exist?”

Harry spent every afternoon reading the books from cover to cover, leaving the little room for meals and then diving right back into them. Hermione would not have believed how much he was studying, he was sure of it.

_ And she never will, if I don’t go back and show her the memories myself,  _ he thought with twitching lips, before shaking himself out of his stupor and going back to searching for answers. 

He would have restless nights, and wake up at the first faint sound downstairs, hurrying down to grab his breakfast, ignoring Aberforth’s disgruntled look and going straight back upstairs, eagerly waiting for the Headmaster to arrive.

And he would, twinkling blue eyes shining in amusement as he took in the state of Harry’s room, where every surface was covered with books - Harry couldn’t be bothered to shrink them again. They would discuss everything he had read, throwing ideas back and forth, but nothing came out of these discussions.

Harry knew it. Every day, the twinkle in Albus’ eyes were a little duller, the stack of books a little shorter, the ideas a little wilder - even he at eleven would have known they would fail.

“I can’t go back, can I?” he asked one hot June morning. The air was humid, and he was grateful for the small vault the Professor had set up for him, for basic necessities like clothes. It wasn’t much help - his white cotton shirt was still sticky with sweat.

Albus sighed, slowly lowering himself into the rickety armchair so he could face Harry, who was sitting cross-legged on his bed. He looked forty years older, and Harry didn’t like that.

“I’m sorry, my boy, I am so sorry,” Albus said slowly, voice low and fretful. “I even talked to my contacts in the Department of Mysteries. There is no way for you to go back.”

A lone tear slipped down his face and disappeared into his beard. Because he had tried extremely hard for this young man. When they were tired of their serious talks, Harry told him about their memories together, and he could easily see how his future self had grown to care for this young man so much. 

“The Unspeakables believe that the moment you landed in the past, another timeline was created to accommodate your presence. That future is now your past, but it is no longer our future-”

“Basically, I’m in an alternate timeline that  _ I  _ created.”

Albus nodded hesitantly. “Yes.”

“So I can’t go back. There’s absolutely  _ no chance  _ of me going back.”

“I am extremely sorry,” Albus repeated.

Harry sighed and stared down at his hands. “You should leave, Headmaster,” he said quietly, after a few minutes of silence. Albus didn’t protest, nimbly standing up and leaving, softly shutting the door after him.

The wooden slab and thin walls did nothing to hide the anguished scream and the sobs that followed.

Albus left the pub without a word to anyone else.


	3. Chapter 3

It had been forty seven days since he had landed in 1974 (yes, he counted), and Harry Dursley was lying on his bed, staring listlessly at the ceiling above him. He could pick out several cracks and holes in the wood, which was already rotting.

“How in Merlin’s name did this building stand for so many more years?” he asked himself. 

“Magic,” a voice came from the doorway. Harry quickly sat up to meet familiar blue eyes.

“Headmaster.”

“Hello, Harry.”

Emerald green eyes followed the weary figure as he moved across the room to settle into the armchair that might as well have his name carved on it.

“You seem troubled, sir,” Harry said quietly, pulling himself into a cross-legged sitting position.

And the Headmaster did. He looked old and miserable, so unlike the cheery man Harry was used to.

“Nothing you need to worry about, my boy-”

Harry held up a hand. “With all due respect, sir. I am not a child. I’m a grown man, you don’t really need to ‘protect’ me.”

Albus looked at the young man in front of him, before nodding.

“Voldemort attacked a village, I had gone to aid the Aurors,” he said wearily, but his eyes were sharp. And he caught the flash of pain in those brilliant green eyes, so like the Dark Lord’s favourite curse.

“Come now, I do not spend time with you to lament about my day,” the Headmaster continued, forcing some cheerfulness into his voice.

Harry simply stared listlessly at the worn wooden floor for a minute, before looking up. “I’m in a new timeline.”

Albus raised an eyebrow. They had been avoiding this line of conversation due to various reasons, but careful inspection made it clear that Harry was not about to explode in rage or desperation.

“Yes.”

“So me acting will not affect the timeline, because there’s no future to change, not for me.”

Albus slowly nodded. “That would be correct.”

The resolve and steel in the green eyes that looked at him was intense; Albus barely managed to meet it head on.

“I wish to join the Order.”

  
  


___________________________

  
  


“The Order of the Phoenix is a vigilante group, we help the Ministry of Magic,” Dumbledore explained needlessly.

“I know a lot about Voldemort. I was a part of the Order, I fought him,” Harry said quietly, ignoring the Headmaster’s slight flinch. “I want to help in any way that I can - but the information I have, it is sensitive, and people will wonder how I got my hands on it.”

Albus’ heart dropped at the first words from Harry. He had hoped that they would be able to take Tom down, but somewhere deep down, he had known that it wouldn’t be easy, it would be a task spanning decades. Tom Riddle was one of Hogwarts’ most brilliant students for a reason.

He took in a deep breath, and focused on the present.

“I have come up with an idea, which if you deem suitable, will be able to solve all those problems.”

Harry looked at him curiously. 

“You are a seer.”

  
  


___________________________

  
  


Harry was a silent observer as Albus addressed the group of people gathered in the small room in Hogshead, trying to match the names he’d been given with the faces around him.

Two redheads who reminded him of Molly, Fabian and Gideon Prewett, sat at one end of the semicircle that surrounded him and Albus. A half-giant who made his heart ache, Hagrid, was standing behind them, acting as a cover from the inquisitive pub-goers - while the crowd was smaller than usual, Aberforth had straight out refused to shut his establishment for a ‘useless meeting that leads to nothing’. 

Another person Harry recognized was Mundungus Fletcher. Harry wrinkled his nose in disgust, eyes narrowing when he spotted the mousy brown hair - that was one person he did not like. It was fortunate that no one was looking at him, all of their attention focused on Albus as he told them about the most recent raid. 

Elphias Doge, Dedalus Diggle, Sturgis Podmore and Emmeline Vance were present as well, looking  _ young.  _

There were a few more people Harry didn’t recognize, and he assumed they were Caradoc Dearborn, Benjy Fenwick, Dorcas Meadowes and Marlene McKinnon, in no particular order - and at least three of them had died gruesome deaths.

He refocused his attention towards the Headmaster, who had finished updating his Order.

“Who is that, Headmaster?” Fabian asked the second he paused.  _ Weren’t they in Gryffindor too? _

“This is my young friend Harry Dursley. He wishes to join the Order,” Albus answered, gesturing for Harry to come stand next to him at the center of the semicircle. He went unwillingly, feeling awkward as every single eye turned to him.

“What does he bring?” one of the women he didn’t know asked.

At Harry’s confused look, Dumbledore explained, “Everyone in the Order brings a skillset to the table, and proof that they can fight well. We don’t wish to recruit civilians and people who are unable to defend themselves, should the need arise.”

Harry blinked. He hadn’t known that was a thing. 

“I can fight-” he could, he had managed to hold his own against death eaters as a  _ teenager  _ “- and I am a seer.”

Complete silence followed his proclamation, before everyone exploded.

“A seer-”

“Seer! Sybill is a  _ fraud-” _

“He’s lying!”

Harry bristled. He  _ hated  _ being called a liar. “I can prove it!”

The clamour stopped and everyone swivelled towards him again.

“Alright, prove it,” Emmeline Vance said.

“Was the reason for Hagrid’s expulsion ever released to the public?” Harry asked Albus. The latter shook his head. “So there is no possible way for me to know why he was expelled.” 

At Albus’ nod of confirmation, Harry turned to face Hagrid. “The Chamber of Secrets was opened, and no one knew who had done it. Then, a girl died. Myrtle. And Tom Riddle, Slytherin Prefect, caught you with an Acromantula. You were expelled for having a class XXXX creature… Who you had named Aragog.”

Hagrid stared at him in shock.

“Is he correct?” Fabian whispered into the silence.

Dumbledore nodded. “Yes, Mr. Dursley is absolutely correct.”

One of the Prewetts stood up and stepped forward to shake his hand. “Welcome to the Order, Mr. Dursley.”

Harry smiled. “Thank you, Mr. Prewett,” he couldn’t help saying cheekily, just to watch the man blink in shock.

  
  


___________________________

  
  


Everyone had filed out of the pub after the meeting, leaving Albus and Harry at the table.

“How  _ did  _ you know about the Chamber of Secrets?” Albus asked, curiosity very evident in his voice.

Harry grinned. “A seer never reveals their secrets, sir,” he laughed as Albus leaned forward, prodding him with his wand.

After a few minutes of unsuccessfully trying to wrangle the answer out of him, Albus sighed. “I’m not going to ever know, am I?”

“I mean, I don’t mind telling you. It’s just a really long story.” 

Albus simply continued to stare at him.

And that was how Harry narrated his life story (without the sordid details) to his (ex?) mentor over the span of a week.

  
  


___________________________

  
  


Fabian collapsed under Harry’s barrage of stunners. 

“He can fight, alright,” the redhead said breathlessly once he was enervated. Harry grinned and headed to the sidelines, letting Emmeline take his place to duel Sturgis. 

He had to admit, being a part of the old Order was a much different experience than the one he had been a part of. The meetings were unlike the ones he was used to, where everyone was focused on figuring out how to keep him safe from the Dark Lord. These meetings were spent trying to figure out battle strategies that were most effective against the Death Eaters and raids, something Harry wished the Order of his time had done.

The rest of the Order were proficient fighters, Harry could admit, and the small size of the group did not stop them from being very efficient in holding back Voldemort’s army.

“So, Harry,” Elphias slithered up to him. “Any new visions?”

Harry almost scowled. Luna had told him how hard it was to see visions, and to decipher them. There wasn’t an on-off switch for it.

“That’s not how visions work, Elphias,” he said, managing to keep his tone even. “I can’t control when I see them.”

Elphias’ smile dimmed a bit, but he nodded and went back to his conversation with Dorcas.

Harry, meanwhile, was racking his brain for any information that he could come up with, about the events of 1974. Hermione’s history lessons had never been more appreciated.

“The Ministry of Magic and the British parliament discussed the terms of the Statute of Secrecy,” a voice came from beside him.

Harry nearly jumped out of his skin. “Headmaster, please don’t do that!”

“My apologies, I didn’t know you were in such deep thoughts,” Albus said with twinkling eyes.

“As in, amended the Statute?” 

“Just last week.”

“There’s going to be another meeting about it, isn’t there?”

Albus looked at him curiously. “Indeed. The Minister and his advisors have a meeting with the muggle Prime Minister a week from today.”

“June 17th,” Harry let out a breath. 

“You think Voldemort will attack?”

“I know he will… I remember there being an assassination attempt on the Minister just two weeks after a major meeting with the muggle government.”

The only reason he remembered this was because of the rants Hermione had whenever the topic of muggle and wizarding society separation came up. Really fortunate, that she had ranted so many times that this piece of information was drilled into his head.

Albus frowned, a deep crease appearing in his forehead. “That is worrying news indeed. And completely probable. It’s just like Tom to use an opportunity like this to make a statement.”

Harry didn’t comment on Albus’ use of Voldemort’s real name. He’d never thought of the Dark Lord as Voldemort either.

  
  


___________________________

  
  


The Order was gathered outside the pristine muggle buildings, all under Notice-Me-Not charms. 

“Did anyone inform the muggles?” Harry asked, agitated as he watched the steady stream of people entering the building, much greater than the ones leaving.

“We tried, they didn’t believe us!” Fabian said, frustrated.

Harry sighed and went back to chewing on his nails while the Order fanned out, positioning themselves in different corners outside the meeting chambers under disillusionment charms.

“This is not going to end well,” he mumbled under his breath.

Dumbledore clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Have more faith, Harry.”

Faith in  _ whom?  _

Harry bit back a sarcastic retort and positioned himself behind a bush, wand at the ready and eyes peeled.

The fight was coming to them, and he was going to be ready.

**Author's Note:**

> Send me asks/requests on [Tumblr!](https://duender-writes.tumblr.com/)


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